


they only ever [ once ]

by Nessotherly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Compliant, Cold Winter, Consensual, First Kiss, First Time, Grinding, Groundhog Day, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Series 4, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Time Travel, UST, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25484050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessotherly/pseuds/Nessotherly
Summary: “So,” Merlin said after a little while of silent contemplation. “We have apparently travelled back in time.”Arthur sighed. “Nothing can ever be simple, mmh?”“Oh, no, it definitely cannot.”________Or the one where Merlin and Arthur are given access to a tiny, comfy loop in time. Shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 94





	they only ever [ once ]

Merlin woke up with a start, only to find himself pinned to the cold, uncomfortable ground by Arthur’s head. He blinked up, once, twice, blood rushing painfully loud to his ears as he tried to fight off a strong, sickening sense of disorientation. 

And he — yes, yup, he had to vomit. Frantically scrambling to his feet, uncaring of Arthur’s sleepy protests at having his improvised pillow taken out from him, Merlin rushed out of the cave, bile coming out of him in painful waves as his magic flared in alarm at some danger,  _ something _ he could not yet perceive. 

“Merlin?” Arthur sounded very much awake now. 

Merlin fell to his knees, eyes closed in order to fight off looming bouts of nausea. He could hear Arthur getting out of his bedroll, and he quickly muttered a few words under his breath, letting his magic course through his body to calm whatever madness had taken over him. 

He breathed through his nose, and heard Arthur’s hesitant steps towards him. He could help his mind racing in all directions, trying to understand — remember where, and when, and how…

“Merlin,” Arthur repeated, putting one knee to the ground. “What —”

“What happened last night?” Merlin asked, his voice hoarse. “I don’t— I have no memory of what— I was talking to you, by the wall, then…” 

Arthur’s face whitened. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Arthur’s voice was strained, and although his own disorientation did not look as violent as Merlin’s — he couldn’t feel the indignante roar of magic all around him, coursing through them, this place and the very fabric of the air they breathed. 

“And I — I just woke up,” Merlin said, cautiously. 

Arthur nodded, his face a concerning shade of grey. “I don’t remember going to sleep.” 

Merlin’s hands shook, and Arthur helped him up to his feet. Merlin was grateful he didn’t mention it. “Let’s — let’s just go,” he whispered, unable to help the deep fear that cursed down his back, pressing Arthur’s forearm urgently. 

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice. In a matter of minutes, their belongings were packed on horseback, and they fled the unsettling cave in the greyish light of dawn. 

* * *

They didn’t speak of what had happened, and Arthur went on with his duties as if it all had been a mere inconvenience. 

Merlin, on the other hand, could not just let it go. 

“And there was nothing to be seen?” Gaius asked for the fifth time. 

The warlock was slowly starting to lose his patience. “Nothing to be  _ seen _ , but I could definitely  _ feel _ something.”

“Merlin…” Gaius started, his voice filled with anxious disapproval. “Merlin, you should have—”

“I cannot explain it, Gaius. I just  _ knew _ we had to get out of there. My magic could not stand it for a minute longer. Thankfully, Arthur did not ask too many questions, I think he was just as unsettled as I was.” 

“Hopefully, it was nothing more than a sacred place, enchanted to repel its visitors.”

Merlin nodded gravely. 

“Hopefully.” 

* * *

It soon turned out that the cave was, actually, enchanted for a whole other purpose. 

The week following their hunting trip to the woods, Merlin woke up to find himself standing by the strange carvings of the cave wall. 

He blinked, then noticed Arthur shifting uncomfortably beside him. 

“We… Am I dreaming?” Arthur asked, looking up at him with his brows furrowed in consternation. 

“I… don’t know?” Merlin said. He pressed his fingers against his cold cheeks, then slid his hands up to his hair and pulled, checking for any hint of pain. He winced. “It doesn’t  _ feel _ like a dream.” 

His mind raced as he looked around them, finding their bedrolls waiting to be laid down by the growing fire, their horses sleeping by the entrance of the cave, their backpacks settled against a wall — exactly the same as they’d been the last time. 

“Are you really here?” Arthur asked softly, turning his head to look at Merlin’s hesitant wandering of the space. 

“I am,” Merlin replied, turning a concerned look at Arthur. “Are you?” Arthur nodded. “Do you think… could we be, somehow, remembering what actually happened?” 

Arthur looked back to the carved runes on the wall. “I was wondering the same thing. Why  _ now _ , on the other hand…” 

“Or  _ how _ ,” Merlin murmured, coming back to stand by Arthur’s side and frown at the drawings. “Those are Old Religion,” he said after a minute of deciphering — more than the few seconds he’d had the last time, before being forcefully thrown into the following morning by some magic he could not yet comprehend. 

“Sorcery?” Arthur whispered, and Merlin could feel his gaze on his profile. 

“Possibly. Or a simple mark left by the druids. It could be inoffensive.” 

Arthur snorted. “Right. Like we’d ever be that lucky.” 

Merlin couldn’t help a smile — then an idea coursed through his head, and he turned back to his prince with such enthusiasm Arthur had to take a step back. 

"Please, tell me you have pen and paper in your bags.” 

Arthur frowned. “ _ Mer _ lin,” he snorted, “why would I bring my writing tools to a hunting trip? And  _ you’re _ the one in charge with the packing; you would be the one to know!” 

Merlin scurried through his memory frantically. “I can’t remember, it was a week ago…” and he all but lunged at the bags, turning both of them inside out, and finally looking up to Arthur in defeat. “Remind me to think of bringing these for our next trip.” 

Arthur scoffed. “I will do no such thing. Why do you need it, anyway?” 

“I want to write down the runes,” Merlin replied, bringing his attention back to the content of the bags, looking for something he could somehow be able to draw on. “This will do,” he added after a little while, bringing the inside of the flap of his bag to his chest, his cutting knife in hand, and started to carve the shape of the runes against the soft leather, biting his tongue in concentration. 

“What do you intend to do with it?” Arthur asked, peering over his shoulder in order to get a look at his approximate penmanship. 

“Some research, of course,” Merlin replied distractedly. “Gaius was quite worried when I told him about the cave.” 

“Hopefully, it won’t turn out to be something dangerous,” Arthur said, and Merlin heard him scuffling by the fire. When he was done, he turned to see that Arthur had laid both of their bedrolls by the fire, next to each other. It was smart. Even for the depths of winter, it was uncommonly cold, and Merlin knew they’d need each other’s body heat to get through the night. 

They’d left Camelot that fateful morning under the pretence of some well deserved hunting fun — just the two of them, as Arthur proclaimed that it would be less of a fuss and he could be more effective than with the entire hunting party. Yet, Arthur had barely gotten to catch a couple of rabbits, before riding off to the neighbouring villages, where he managed to get a good look at the state of his people, and the famine that ravaged his land during this terrible winter. 

He couldn’t help a little smile, then brought his bag close to his chest and went to sit next to Arthur, cross legged. 

“Give me the rabbits,” he said, and started to quietly work on skinning them, his movements precise, quick and effective. Arthur brought the pots to him, went out and came back with an armful of snow that he set off to melt little by little. 

They worked quietly next to each other, and by the time the meat had cooked and the water had boiled to a reasonable broth, they ate in silence. 

“So,” Merlin said after a little while of silent contemplation. “We have apparently travelled back in time.” 

Arthur sighed. “Nothing can ever be simple, mmh?” 

“Oh, no, it definitely cannot,” Merlin chuckled. “My question is: what do we do with it? What happens to… to the future week we’ve just lived through?” 

Arthur blinked at his words. “I… I just figured we’d finish the night, and travel back to Camelot, with our memories intact, this time.” 

“But what if we don’t go back?” Merlin asked. 

“What, Merlin… are you proposing that we run  _ away _ ?” Arthur’s tone was one of friendly mockery. 

“No, you royal prat. What if we wake up  _ into _ the future we’ve just left?” 

Arthur opened his mouth to contradict him, then stopped, thinking. “Well… actually yes, that would make more sense.” 

“And what if we don’t wake up at all?” Merlin tried to play off his question lightly, but he couldn’t help worrying at the possibility. “The little I’ve read about time travel… one does not simply  _ mess _ with it, Arthur. Its rules are unbreakable, and the risk if any digression were to be made would be absolutely gigantic.” 

Arthur smiled depreciatively. “Look at you, Merlin, with your big words and prophecies of impending doom!” 

“At least one of us  _ thinks _ ,” Merlin deadpanned. 

“Just— relax, Merlin. Whichever it is — we will wake up, one way or another, whether in our respective rooms, or here, it does not matter. We will go back to Camelot, you will study your runes, and we will find a solution to whatever it is that is happening in this cave.” 

Merlin nodded sourly. “I hope you’re right.” 

Arthur gave him a friendly punch on the arm. “Cheer up, will you. This is an unexpected vacation. You should make the most of it.” 

“I was  _ sleeping _ , Arthur,” Merlin retorted. “I was enjoying my  _ sleep _ , before waking up at dawn making sure that everything is ready for His Majesty’s getting out of bed in time for his big council meetings.” 

“Wait… Sleeping?” Arthur blinked. “I was in the middle of a war council.” 

Merlin’s fork dropped in his bowl at the words. “Wait — what?” Arthur looked just as distraught. “What day is… was it?” 

“Thursday, Merlin; you know my schedule better than I do.” 

“But… For me, it is only Monday,” Merlin replied. “Are you telling me that…  _ this _ , here, hasn’t happened to you yet?” 

Arthur shook his head. “What is  _ happening _ ?” he whispered, horror flaring in his voice. 

Merlin suddenly wished he were alone, and could freely flaunt his magic at the place, at the wall, at the carving, all in order to make  _ sense _ of the tantalising magic that coursed through this place. But he couldn’t, so he said firmly: “I will find out, Arthur. I promise.” 

“You didn’t tell me. About this.” 

“I suppose because I already knew… know… will know? Ugh, probably because I now  _ know _ I shouldn’t tell you until after the war council.” 

Arthur brought his two hands to his head and pressed his palms against his eyes. “Argh! This is ridiculous! Ridiculously complicated! We were just looking for  _ shelter!” _

Merlin took Arthur’s empty bowl out of his lap. “Let’s go to sleep, Arthur. We’ll find out what happens to us in the morning.” 

Arthur sighed, but complied nonetheless. Merlin kneeled to help Arthur out of his boots and chainmail, then took care of his own footwear and slipped under the covers next to Arthur’s shivering body. 

He turned his back on his prince, and with a whispered spell, ensured the growth of the flames for the next few hours, and forced —  _ willed _ himself to sleep as soon as possible. 

He desperately hoped he’d wake up in Camelot as they’d both theorised. 

* * *

Merlin was pulled out of his dream by Arthur’s shivering body pressing against his back, one gloved hand slipping under his arm to hold him close to his chest. 

He tensed, heart beating wildly against his ribcage, and listened for Arthur’s breathing. He was shivering quite violently, and Merlin cursed under his breath, head poking from under the furs to check on the state of the fire. Only embers remained, and Merlin knew that getting out of the covers to gather more fire now would only make them colder. 

“Are you s-sleeping, s-s-sire?” he whispered, fighting off the chattering of his own teeth. 

“What do you th-think,  _ Mer _ lin,” Arthur managed to blurt through his shivering. “This body-heat th-thing isn’t  _ w-working.”  _

_ “ _ Th-think of w-w-arm th-things,” Merlin retorted, and Arthur’s snort briefly warmed the base of his neck. “D-Do that again,” he added, half jokingly, half delirious with sleep and the cold. 

And strangely — probably for the same reasons, Arthur did. Icy lips pressed against the nape of his neck, opening and covering his skin with the heated wetness of his breath. 

Merlin’s shivers, then, were for a whole other reason. He froze, feeling his elevated heartbeat in his throat as Arthur breathed silently against his skin, lips dragging over the curls at his nape, almost a kiss in and of itself, and it was all Merlin could do not to weep at the intimacy of the moment. 

He forgot all about the cold for the long minutes Arthur carried on with his caresses, and when he finally stopped, pressing his forehead against the base of his spine, heat had found its place in the covers, and Arthur’s breathing evened out as he fell into a deep slumber. 

Merlin woke up the next morning in his chambers, and it merely took him a few pumps of his trembling hand over his hardened cock to come all over his nightshirt. 

* * *

By the time the war council took place, Merlin had avoided Arthur at all costs, afraid of revealing anything that might have occurred during his feverish sleep. 

He found the carving of the runes on the insides of his bag, and spent most of his free time with his nose buried in Gaius’ books. He did not manage to identify the runic alphabet that composed his drawing. Merlin did not want to come to Gaius for help too soon — something made his skin crawl at the idea, and he’d wait to be absolutely desperate for answers to come to his old mentor. 

On Wednesday night, Gwaine, Lancelot and Percival took him to the tavern. He spent a lovely time with his friends, and exchanged a quick handjob with Gwaine at their return in the darkness of the stables. Gwaine’s kisses were replaced by the vivid memory of Arthur’s lips pressing against his sensitive skin. He came unbearably loudly, and blushed at Gwaine’s lewd praise as they helped each other back into their breeches. 

He kept his eyes set on Arthur’s back the following day, all the way through the dull and endless meeting. Magic prickled excitedly on his skin as Arthur seemed to doze off with his head on his palm, and he turned a panicked look in Merlin’s direction when he seemed to come back to himself, merely a few seconds later. 

“Did I disappear?” Arthur hissed in Merlin’s ear as they strolled down the corridors at the end of the aborted meeting. 

“No,” Merlin replied, arms crossed against his chest, eyes resolutely set on the floor. “You were only out of it for a few seconds.” 

“At least we are alive,” Arthur replied, carefully avoiding his gaze. “Take the day off, Merlin.” 

And Merlin quietly fled into the courtyard with his heart hammering in his chest. 

* * *

From then on, Arthur seemed to spend an awful lot of time in Guinevere’s company. Wherever he looked, he seemed to leave his duties in second plan in order to steal a few moments with his lady. 

Lancelot’s visit to the tavern — and Merlin’s invitation to join — became more frequent, and Gwaine sighed as he contemplated, for the third night in a row, his friends’ morose sipping of the ale he’d so generously paid for. 

“That is enough,” he declared on the fourth night. “I don’t know what is up with you Merlin, but you cannot just neglect your duties and waste your time with the knights every hour of the day. As for you, Lancelot — there are plenty of lovely ladies here tonight that would kill for a minute of your time.” 

“Not for mine?” Merlin asked sourly, and Perceval gave him a friendly slap on the head. 

“Any girl would be lucky to have you,” Gwaine replied sarcastically. “Although I doubt that is what you truly need at this very moment, I—”

Merlin blinked, and noticed the carvings on the wall. 

“Oh, for gods’ s—”

Arthur cursed quite colourfully beside him. 

“Not again, surely?!” Arthur groaned, hands fisting his golden hair furiously. “I was just about to win!” 

Merlin sighed, turned and let himself fall down the wall. “Where were you, this time?” 

Arthur glared at him. “Friday; I was just about to bring Perceval to his knees.” 

“Friday? Right after the war council?” Arthur nodded, and Merlin blinked, startled. “But it’s been a week for me!” His brows furrowed suspiciously. “And you didn’t tell me anything!” 

“I do not owe you—“ Arthur started, but Merlin was having none of it. 

“Oh, don’t you start, Arthur. We are in this together; how are we expected to figure  _ this _ out if you keep such important informations from me?” 

He didn’t know why it angered him so; probably knowing that Arthur’s silent treatment had followed yet another trip to the cave didn’t help the sudden flaring of his fury. 

Arthur avoided his gaze. “You are right, I— I apologise?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes impatiently. “Don’t apologise! You haven’t even lived through my week  _ yet _ !” 

“Right,” Arthur said, then glared at him out of habit and turned to the fireplace to set up the bedrolls. “Let us sleep, I want this to be over with as soon as possible. The sooner we sleep, the quicker we are back to the castle and the warmth of its walls.” 

Merlin nodded, glanced one last time at the carvings, then went to add some more logs to the fire before helping Arthur out of his clothes and hiding under the covers. 

“Sleep well, sire,” he muttered, still infinitely annoyed. Arthur barely managed a grunt. 

* * *

He was woken by Arthur’s mouth pressing against his neck, breathing hot puffs of steaming air over his skin, and Merlin barely managed to contain a moan as he turned, shivering, to grasp at Arthur’s shirt and grind his painful erection against the prince’s navel. 

Arthur groaned, clenched his fingers at Merlin’s back, and their mouths almost immediately met, cold and wet and impossibly hot. Their tongues danced almost furiously, and there was too much of their chattering teeth for the kiss to be entirely pleasurable. Merlin moaned as Arthur bit on his lower lip, licking at the insides of his mouth with such ravenous strength he would have lost all strength in his legs had he been standing. His hands clenched at Arthur’s hair, pulling him closer for more friction, to better feel the hardness of their clothed cocks, and Arthur’s sudden needy whine sent shattering heats of wave through his body. 

“Arthur—” he breathed as Arthur dropped to the side of his neck, relentlessly biting and licking at the sensitive flesh. “Arthur, I—” 

He came embarrassingly early when Arthur’s hands grabbed at his buttocks, his friend’s name barely kept to his lips as his body spasmed through his completion. Arthur rode his own arousal for a few more seconds against his cock, aching and oversensitive, before capturing his lips in a furious kiss and coming with a silent cry. 

They remained silent as they were, warm, seated, embarrassed and breathless. 

Merlin glanced down at Arthur’s face. The embers were dying, yet they shed enough light to shine on Arthur’s exposed profile, casting mesmerising shadows from his eyelashes, and he forgot to breathe for a while as the realisation of what they had done dawned on him. 

* * *

“I don’t think I’ve ever thought of asking you this, but… can you read?” 

Kilgarrah lowered his head and slowly blinked at Merlin’s anxious expression. 

“I don’t  _ read _ , young Merlin,” he hissed at him softly. “But I bear the knowledge of my forefathers, of magic, or countless lives in my blood. I can  _ understand _ your pathetic little scribblings, yes, although I barely find any use for this specific skill.” 

Merlin nodded frantically, tapped his nose in excitement, then flipped the pan of his bag around and showed the carving of the runes to the dragon. 

He frowned at the inscription, bringing his gigantic head closer to the bag, and Merlin felt the overpowering strength of his impatient huff. 

“I haven’t been able to translate those,” Merlin explained quickly. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you had I managed to find what they were, and I am at a loss, now, I don’t know where else to look, and —”

Kilgarrah interrupted him with a startled chuckle. “Oh, young warlock, you have been  _ cursed!” _

Merlin blanched. “I-I’m sorry, what ? Have I?” 

“Yes, I can see it now, the stench of foreign magic coils all over your skin. You have been marked by those runes. They are not native to this place; I am not surprised you could not find them in your frantic research. Those are summoning inscriptions of the Norse, from over the seas. I remember their last visit, over a few centuries ago.” Kilgarrah smiled a terrifying smile, his yellow pointy teeth a bit too close to Merlin’s face for it to be comfortable. “ _ Back and again _ , they read.  _ A closed space for study _ .” He pointed at distinctive shapes with his muzzle, but Merlin could not make out which ones he meant. “Their priests must have chosen a place for an anchor, to evade any interruption, probably in order to study the ways of your people, unnoticed. Have you found yourself thrust into a closed space in time, recently?” 

Merlin nodded, heart beating loudly in his ears, and heat coursing through his body at the memory of his last visit to the cave. 

“Arthur and I, actually. We stopped there for shelter, but we have no memory of that night. And we have been…  _ thrust _ back there a couple of times since then, if that’s the way you want to call it. For a few hours. We come back to our present selves in Camelot by morning.” 

Kigarrah nodded slowly. “The spell  _ functions _ as a curse, but its effects are not malicious, young warlock. There is no need to worry. It is a simple work of curiosity.” 

Something akin to relief flooded his chest. “That’s good,” he blurted. “But how do I stop it?” 

The dragon chuckled. “You don’t. As I told you, this curse has no evil intent over its bearer. It marks your soul with its potential, but it is yours to command. You are given an entryway to this space, it is yours to do with it as you wish. Arthur and you must have been brought back there out of mere curiosity.” 

“Yeah, curiosity,” Merlin coughed. “So if we decide to just… forget about the whole thing, we wouldn’t go back?” Kilgarrah shook his gigantic head. “That’s… good to know. That we only have to  _ want  _ to go back.” He worried at his bottom lip, lost in thought. “Thank you, and I apologise for disturbing your slumber.” 

Kilgarrah snorted. “You didn’t ask me for anything too troublesome this time, at least. Take care, young warlock, for dark times are ahead. Access to a place of quiet and relief might prove itself useful in the following years. Make use of it, and learn from those foreign ways.” And with those ominous words, he flew off into the darkness. 

Merlin let himself fall to the ground and hid his face in his hands. “We only have to  _ want _ to go back,” he murmured, and something painful clenched at his throat. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a three chapter fic, written out of sheer procrastination in order to _not_ write my undergrad thesis. 
> 
> Any constructive criticism is highly requested! I am not a native english speaker, and I'm really working on improving my writing in order to get the skills to write longer fics. I've been lurking in the shadows of the Merlin fandom for eight years now, wishing I could write as well as the rest of you and failing every single time I try lmao. This fandom is stupidly talented, and I hope you will enjoy my little fic. 
> 
> I also would like to give a lot of thanks and kudos to Heart of Gold Ass of Dumb, who's been kind enough to beta this chapter prior to publishing it. 
> 
> Also don't hesitate to subscribe in order to receive an alert when the next chapters are posted! 
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading!


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